Sibling Rivalry
by Lunar-Kiss
Summary: Jareth learns that his sister's planned attack is falling into place and his only answer is to turn to a mortal girl, Emily. Immediately Jareth has his doubts that she may not have the strength to endure the lessons taught by the Goblin King.


**Author's Note**: I can't tell you with confidence that there will be more chapters. After reading this again I realized that it sucks. It's lengthy, boring, and is too descriptive. Some of the phrasings don't make sense either. Most of this was written at night so if it seems off that just means I was probably exhausted when writing this and didn't catch it on my proof reading.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Jareth, the concept of the Labyrinth, Toby, or Sarah.

The blanket of thick, foreboding clouds drifted lazily across the expanse of previously blue sky. The absence of golden rays of light had gone unnoticed by the inhabitants of the land of sand and stone. From the moss that grew in the cracks of the ever-shifting grey brick walls of the Labyrinth to the riotous goblin militia that dwelled behind the protection of the walls that surrounded the castle; none appreciated the warmth that radiated from the burning globe when their world consisted of nothing more than black gates and insurmountable barriers.

One alone grasped the importance of the bleak, yet disappointingly uneventful atmosphere that cloaked not only the sky, but the mood of the fortress. The mismatched eyes of blue and hazel betrayed the emotionless features of the slender face they were set upon. The corners of the man's thin lips twitched and then rose slowly into a lopsided smile. It was only when the high-pitched screech of crippled female's form erupted into the air from behind him that he was forced to pull his focus away from the weather and return it to the more pressing matters at hand.

"Jareth!" The lone voice had squawked.

"No need to put more stress upon that old heart of yours, my dear." He purred as he turned upon the heels of his dirt caked boots. "Now, what was your question?"

The frail frame of the trembling creature could be seen beneath the black garment she had draped over a body that had been assaulted viciously by old age during these past few years. To his immediate displeasure her slender, wart-dotted fingers emerged from beneath the folds of her cloak and gripped the material of her hood, slowly pulling it back to reveal a face that was twisted and disfigured and displayed no trace of the beauty that had graced her in her youth. Between the pits of black abyss that were once her eyes was planted a third eye that had turned white as if plagued by a cataract.

A moment of silence passed between the pair. He was unable to speak, just as he always was when, without warning, he was treated to the horrific scene that was her face and she was no longer perturbed with his repulsion that was directed at her appearance. The elderly woman hobbled across the cold floor tiled by stone that was blackened with soot and discarded filth left behind by the goblins that had eagerly left the pair to have their private discussions.

"You are aware that your sister's military forces grow in number and strength with each passing moon." She said in her naturally soft, raspy tone. "Nineteen years ago I presented you with the answer to your dilemma, but upon my return I am to find that not only do you still have little more than a ragtag army of goblin miscreants, but that the child was in your possession for a mere thirteen hours. I am well aware of what occurred, Jareth, but I would like to know more of this Sarah girl."

At the mention of the young girl's name one of his angled eyebrows raised and a look of restrained dislike was cast in the creature's direction. It was now obvious to him that she was prone to gossip and therefore no more sophisticated than the grimy goblins that acted as the base of his frail military force. A gloved finger rose to his lips, the tip tapped idly against his pale flesh as his mind swam with thoughts of those few precious hours he had been fully exposed to her. The familiar sensation of his innards twisting into intricate knots of embarrassment accompanied the memories that had been jaded by time.

"The human girl holds no relevance to the reason why you have come to see me. Therefore, we shan't discuss her or the events that took place before her departure with the child." He said dryly.

The topic of the wretched child had been discussed by those who lacked the sense of propriety to spread the rumors from mouth to ear when his ears were not tuned into every whisper dropped in his presence. The tale had been spun and then dissected to remove any hint of truth and retold to the eager ears of those of lower authority than the King. The rumors had trickled from the upper class into the bowels of the kingdom and found by the clogged ears of the peasants. How many years had it been told and retold around crackling fires? How many had discussed the "love-sick King" in their unintelligible dialect that was slurred by inebriated tongues?

Jareth expelled the air in his lungs that he had not realized he had been holding until the heavy hammering of his lungs against his ribs pulled him from his bitter thoughts. His attention was drawn back to the grey-purple face that appeared shaped around the hooked nose of his servant. The mottled flesh of her eyelids had closed over the two empty pits, leaving the white eye to be the center of his focus as he watched her knobby fingers fumble along the scarred surface of her face, searching for the Seeing Eye.

In a mixture of emotions stirred beneath the cryptic expression planted upon his face. The fluttering of his heart, the occasional skip of a necessary beat had his unbridled excitement about the prophecies she had to offer. The slow, painful sinking of his stomach into his groin and the churning of his innards was the working of the doubts he harbored toward the Oracle's abilities to assist him and his ability to carry out the plan flawlessly- lest history repeat itself.

With unfaltering eyes he watched the tips of her purple fingers sink beneath the white sphere imbedded deep in her misshapen skull. The squelching sound of the liquid being jostled behind her eye caused him to wrinkle his nose in light disgust, but that was the last time he was to move as he continued to observe with unexplained fascination.

The Seeing Eye fell into her cupped hand with a "pop". She extended her hand to him, allowing him a better view as the slime covered ball began to swell rapidly; a hissing noise broke the silence that had settled upon the pair. The sound hinted that it was by the simple magic of air that the eye was inflating, but Jareth did not comment upon it. The elderly woman—if she could be referred to as such—was sensitive about her abilities and to inquire about even the smallest detail would send her into a childlike tantrum of screams and curses.

The hissing noise ceased and the eye had settled into its enlarged state- it was roughly the size of a child's clenched fist. The image the white sphere held was still unclear, fogged, and only the edges of the picture seemed intent on being brought into focus. Jareth watched with eyes wide in anticipation, but there was still confusion as to what he was expected to see and the message the haggard woman would present him with.

"The girl of the fallen kingdom," the Oracle said, "shall lead the King of Goblins into an epic battle. Upon the blood stained fields littered with rotting corpses is where victory shall be seized."

Upon hearing that the prophecy of a woman leading his pitiful assembly of armed, yet intoxicated goblins into battle was laughable. Yet he was of sound mind to know when the appropriate time to question the Oracle's mistakes was- and this was not that precise occasion. His brow furrowed as his mismatched eyes narrowed, attempting to draw the blurred image of the girl into focus faster than the Eye was willing.

With the last few grains of his already worn thin patience he stood in a hunched position, his hands planted firmly upon his weakening knees as he glared ferociously at the clear image of the fair skinned woman who had long since drifted away from the childish fantasies of fairy tale endings, kings and princes, knights in dazzling armor, and all the romances of naïve youth. Her cream colored, oval shaped face was framed by a mass of red-orange ringlets of glossy hair that cascaded down her back and over her slender shoulders. The lids of her eyes fell over her emerald eyes and her dry, cracked lips were thinned into a twisted frown. Her face was hidden from his view when she lifted her trembling hands to cup her face.

Was she crying?


End file.
